


Hopeless? Or Hopeful ...

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Derogatory Language, First Kiss, Gay Awakening, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Talent Shows, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Jaejoong is going to end his high school career a laughingstock anyway. Might as well try to get what he wants while he's at it.
Relationships: Kim Jaejoong/Park Yoochun
Kudos: 2





	Hopeless? Or Hopeful ...

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

_A/N: Every time I hear the song "Hey Mickey" on the radio, I want to write a fic about it. So I finally did._

“He is going to ambush you after the talent show and kick the shit out of you.”

Jaejoong ignored Key and focused on the steps of his dance routine.

Key tittered and Jaejoong saw him flick his black hair from his forehead with an annoyed huff.

“He isn’t,” Jaejoong said. “It’s just a routine for a talent show.”

“Stop lying to yourself. Besides, you can barely dance,” Key continued. “You’re going to fall on your head and embarrass yourself.”

“Shut up,” Jaejoong almost glowered, stumbling over a couple of steps. “If you aren’t going to be supportive, then get out. I can do this.”

“Micky Yoochun is straight,” Key said and headed toward the door of the practice room. “Completely and utterly straight. If he doesn’t beat you up for this, then the Kim Twins will in his place.”

Jaejoong said nothing else to him and waited until the door shut behind him before falling to his ass with a quiet desperate sigh.

Key was right on all counts, but Jaejoong couldn’t just not do anything. Not anymore. And he was an idiot and had signed up for the damn talent show with the hope that just maybe someone would notice him for something good. And maybe that someone was Park Yoochun.

But he wasn’t really that good. Not at dancing. Just at singing.

He took a deep breath against tears and stood up with a growl. He was going to do this. It was his last year of high school anyway. He had Key as a friend. Maybe Kim Jonghyun since they’d known each other since they were little, but Jonghyun was better friends with Key than he was. And he had been friends with Kim Heechul, but that had turned into a rivalry of sorts that Jaejoong had no ability to win. And he had no girl friends. They did not like him because he was prettier than them.

Fuck up or no, he had made a commitment, and he had to stick with that. Even if he embarrassed himself and was chased out of high school by a mob with flaming pitchforks.

\---

“Micky Yoochun!”

Yoochun rolled his eyes and shut his locker, unsurprised at the gay monstrosity heading his way. Kim Kibum. His school uniform just looked gay. Yoochun wasn’t sure how that was possible. He wore the same khaki pants, blue and white plaid vest, white shirt and navy blue jacket as everyone else. Maybe it was the bowtie. Or the colored streaks in his hair. Or the lipgloss. Probably the lipgloss.

The only one more flamboyant than him at their school was Kim Jaejoong, who had a tendency to wear the girl’s side of the uniform to school. Yes, even the skirts and the stockings.

“Yes, Kim Gay-bum? What can I do for you?”

The few friends of his around him chuckled.

“I need to talk to you, in private.”

Yoochun scoffed. “Yeah, sure. No thanks. I like my virtue.”

“You’re a slut, fuck off. This is important.”

“You need me and then you insult me. Nice.”

“Get lost,” Junsu said.

Kibum tutted at him. He obviously looked Yoochun up and down, drawing more protests from Yoochun’s friends. Yoochun narrowed his eyes.

“I do not even ... apparently, you’re a ‘good guy’ and ‘super nice,” Kibum said, even using finger quotes. And nail polish. Yeah. He was wearing nail polish. “I have no idea how he is so fucking delusional. Look, Mister Asshole Kingka--”

Yoochun was quick to stop Junsu from flinging himself forward to punch him.

Kibum simpered at him with a glare in his eyes. “You may be one of the hottest guys in this school, but if you have even a shred of decency in your bones, you will go talk to Kim Jaejoong and tell him he is being a right idiot. If he goes through with this, it is going to hurt him and embarrass him and it’s going to be all your fault.”

“Kim Jaejoong is already an embarrassment,” Yunho said.

“Yunho,” Yoochun said with a sigh. “Going through with what?”

Kibum pursed his lips together and said, “Fuck you. Just go talk to him. Please. Just ...” Kibum turned with a flick of his hips, if that was a thing, and he stomped his way down the hall. And heels. He was wearing heels.

“What the fuck was that?” Yunho asked.

“Have no idea,” Yoochun said. “I don’t really care. Come on, we’re going to be late for biology.”

\---

Jaejoong shut his eyes for a moment, the music thudding through his ear phones. He did not dare practice with a stereo or a radio or even his phone. He didn’t want anyone to catch him. Already he’d been banned from practicing at home, and he didn’t want to dance in front of random people at a gym or park or on the street.

The talent show was in a week and he had to have this perfect. Some parts he was okay with, but others his feet slipped or his body didn’t twist right. He had no idea how to fix it.

There was one part in the middle, a leg kick and then a jump that he fell over on every single time. He visualized and at the right moment he danced on beat and then kicked and fell and cried out.

Pain. Fuck. That hurt.

His entire ankle was suddenly throbbing, and he flung his headphones out of his ears and stayed on the ground, curled up in a ball and just cried.

Shit. This was so stupid. It was so stupid.

Key was right. As usual. Little punk.

There was no way he was going to be able to dance to this song. And what? Did he really think that doing this was going to impress Park Yoochun?

Park Yoochun probably would never look at him again afterwards. He was going to completely embarrass the both of them.

Yoochun’s reputation would survive.

Jaejoong’s would not.

Shit. His ankle really hurt. He struggled to get to his hands and knees, and then pushed up to stand. Pain flared up his leg again and he cried out and went right back to his ass.

Fuck.

\---

A random text message from a number not in his phone said: _He’ll be in the dance room after class. Go talk to him!_

Yoochun ignored it at first, made plans to hang out with Yunho after class. But through the last half of classes, he grew a little more worried and found himself searching for Kim Jaejoong’s face among the throngs of students. He saw him just once, right before last period, and he looked like he always looked.

Pretty. And gay. So pretty gay.

His hair was just dark enough to be called brown, after he’d been told that blond hair was not allowed at the beginning of the school year. He was wearing slacks today, but a pair of black flats that most girls wore with their uniforms. His vest was the girl’s purple and gray plaid vest and he wasn’t wearing a tie. The jacket was short on his torso, showing off his waist. And like Kim Kibum, he was wearing makeup. And his hair was clipped back with something that looked like a flower.

Pretty gay.

Yoochun sighed and headed to Chinese History. Yes, Kim Jaejoong was pretty. Yes, Kim Jaejoong was nice. Well, he guessed so. He wasn’t friends with him. He mostly knew about him because the other students gossiped about him incessantly. Like they had nothing else to talk about except how silly and lame and ridiculous and gay Kim Jaejoong was.

Yoochun wondered for a moment if he had ever said anything bad about Jaejoong. He didn’t think so. But he did laugh at his friends’ jokes, the ones at the expense of the pretty boy. He tried to swallow the suddenly ill feeling in his stomach. He probably should not have done that.

Yoochun didn’t have a class with him this year. Though last year he did have three and had even worked on a project with him in their history class.

Kim Jaejoong had higher marks than he did.

He reviewed Kibum’s little speech in his head.

What was Kim Jaejoong planning?

Obviously it had to do with Yoochun himself, but he couldn’t really figure out what.

Junsu had said something at lunch about Jaejoong having a crush on him. Jaejoong and probably most of the girls in the school. Yoochun was used to crushes, and Yoochun was used to turning them all down when they garnered up the courage to confess. He didn’t like to date. He had to get into college first and then he could focus on dating.

After school, he made excuses. Something about forgetting something in his locker and while he was there, he’d try to talk to their math teacher about his grade. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, but he left Yunho and Junsu in the parking lot and trotted back toward the school building. It was always weird to be there when other people weren’t there. Junsu said it was calming, and he often sat in the hallways after football practice.

It just felt empty.

Yoochun made his way to the gymnasium and then toward the smaller room next to it that had been a classroom, but now had wooden floors and mirrors along one side.

There were shuffling noises from inside, and Yoochun stayed close to the side of the door and peeked around the door frame. He felt a little silly, but he didn’t want to interrupt anyone and his heart was hammering a bit with nerves. There was no reason to be anxious. It was just Kim Jaejoong.

And yes, it was just Kim Jaejoong. Dancing.

Yoochun smiled and then bit his lower lip against a laugh. He didn’t mean for the laugh to be rude; it’s just that Kim Jaejoong had a hard time walking down a flat hallway without looking like a newborn giraffe on too long of legs.

But he wasn’t that bad. His arm movements were crisp, mostly. He stopped in the middle of the room and shut his eyes and tilted his head back.

Yoochun watched him. He had taken off his uniform and wore his gym clothes, navy track pants and a white T-shirt with the school logo on it. His shoulders were pretty defined. Strong. Muscles.

Really? Kim Jaejoong had muscles? The girl uniform sure hid a lot.

But in that T-shirt, Yoochun could tell he was muscular.

Jaejoong suddenly moved, kicked his leg and fell with a cry.

Concerned, Yoochun moved into the room. Jaejoong twisted, flinging his headphones out of his ears. Yoochun froze. Everything went still except for Jaejoong’s heavy, crying breaths.

Yoochun did not know what to do.

Jaejoong tried to get up and then fell with another almost scream.

“Shit, are you okay?” he said, hurrying next to him.

Jaejoong froze and then turned and tried to scoot away from him. “Y-yoochun-ah ... shi .. Yoochun-shi. Sorry. Just ...”

His cheeks went pink and he winced when he tried to put weight on his foot.

Yoochun smiled. “Are you okay?”

Jaejoong swallowed and nodded, and then shook his head, and tried to wipe at the tears on his cheeks. “Sorry. I’m ... I’m ... fine.”

“You aren’t,” Yoochun insisted and reached for him. “Let me help you up.”

Jaejoong whimpered and shut his eyes tightly.

Determined, Yoochun gripped under his arm and yanked him up. Jaejoong stumbled into him with a small cry and Yoochun held onto him, an arm around his waist, the other around his shoulders, and it was almost a hug. The faint sound of music twisted through Jaejoong’s breaths, and Yoochun lifted an earbud to his ear.

_Hey Mickey you’re so pretty can’t you understand, you take me by the heart then you take me by the hand, oh Mickey what a pity can’t you understand, it’s guys like you Mickey, what you do Mickey, do Mickey, don’t break my heart Mickey. Hey Mickey, you’re so fine you’re so fine you blow my mind hey Mickey, hey Mickey, hey Mickey, you’re so fine--_

The earbud was ripped away from him and Jaejoong pushed him away. He limped over to the wall where he had put his backpack, but when he bent down to pick it up, he whimpered again and almost fell.

Yoochun snapped himself out of his daze and hurried to help him.

“Go away,” Jaejoong said. His voice was quiet and it shook. Defeated.

Yoochun had no idea what to say to him. But his mind put the pieces together. Kibum’s warning. Jaejoong dancing. Jaejoong humiliating himself. Only Yoochun could stop it. Because it was for him. Jaejoong was going to dance to that silly song for him. Embarrass himself in front of the school. Just for him.

Junsu was right. Jaejoong did have a crush on him.

“You were going to dance in the talent show,” Yoochun said.

“Am. I am.”

“Not with that ankle. You need to rest.”

“I don’t care. I am.”

Yoochun huffed. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t even dance.”

“I can!” Jaejoong stomped his foot and winced.

Yoochun shook his head. “Everyone is sure that you’re going to sing. Why don’t you just sing?”

Jaejoong did not answer, keeping his face turned away from him, but he could see his expression in the mirror. He was blushing and biting his lower lip.

“You should sing. You have a really nice voice. When they all talk about you behind your back, almost everything they say ends with, ‘at least he can sing.’”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Yoochun frowned. “Yeah, but it’s really not.”

“Go away, please.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously, Jaejoong. Sing. You have an amazing voice. And--” Yoochun took a deep breath. He had to put a stop to this. “And, well, I hate that song.”

Jaejoong’s head shot up. “What?”

“In the US, during junior high school, kids sang it to make fun of me all the time. I fucking hate that song.”

Jaejoong swallowed.

Yoochun headed for the door and then stopped and turned around. “I don’t want to leave you when you’re injured, but I’m going to. I also don’t want to leave you ... hopeful. I’m not gay.”

“I know that.” His voice was still quiet, but harsh. Almost echoing, and Yoochun fought the tightness in his throat. It never hurt to reject someone. It hadn’t in the past.

Standing there, Yoochun had to fight the urge to comfort him. Hold him again. Jaejoong had fit very nicely within his arms.

“If you’re doing this for me, then sing. If you’re doing it for yourself, then sing. You are such an amazing singer. Sing for me instead, please?” Yoochun said. “And rest your ankle.”

Jaejoong turned his back and his shoulders shook like he was crying.

“See you tomorrow,” Yoochun whispered and finally left. He growled past the tightness in his throat and the stinging in his eyes.

\---

Jaejoong shut his eyes, blocking out the darkened stage. Everything was set. Everything was ready. The mic worked (unlike in rehearsals). The music worked. The talents before him had been pretty good. A few of the more popular kids did dance routines from famous pop songs. A girl had already sang, but her voice was flat the entire time.

There was a prize for the winner.

But Jaejoong already knew he was going to lose. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted because Park Yoochun was not gay.

Key and Jonghyun had talked him out of wearing a dress.

“The makeup is going to be bad enough,” Jonghyun had said.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing, just no dress. Wear something snazzy. Like a tux or something. Please.”

So Jaejoong dressed down. He wore a bright blue suit with an blue and yellow paisley ascot around his neck. The yellow in the scarf matched the yellow of his shirt. And just because he felt like it, he wore his rhinestone heeled boots. A few sparkles never hurt anyway. And he felt comfortable in those.

This was a performance that was for Yoochun but not for Yoochun because Yoochun already gave him an answer.

But it was still for Yoochun. Yoochun had asked him to sing.

So Jaejoong sang.

The curtain went up, the spotlight hit him and the music started. He only opened his eyes when he sang the first note. As he feared, his gaze went right to where Yoochun was sitting. The spotlight was too bright to see beyond it, but Jaejoong had peeked before the performance and knew just where he was sitting.

The small chatter in the auditorium hushed to silence as Jaejoong sang. His soul. His heart. His mind. His body. He poured everything into the song and when his voice choked up near the end, it did not take away from is performance and he whispered a single line before pushing through the ache in his chest and belting out the last powerful chorus.

The cheers in the audience were loud, and Jaejoong stood again with his eyes shut and his lips against the microphone and his whisper of “I love you” echoed through the room.

\---

**LISTEN TO THE SONG**

\---

Yoochun stood beneath the awning of the entrance at Kim Jaejoong’s apartments. He had been standing farther away, but it started raining. He was waiting. For Jaejoong.

Shit.

He rubbed his face and cursed out loud.

What the hell was he doing there?

He told himself over and over that it was to congratulate Jaejoong on an awesome performance. Even the Kim Twins weren’t able to say anything bad about it. Junsu did mutter something about the scarf. And the boots.

But if it was just to congratulate him, Yoochun could have waited at the school. Instead, he’d ditched his friends and came here.

And only now as the rain increased did Yoochun realize how fucking stupid this was. Jaejoong might not even be coming home for a while. He had friends to hang out with. He had probably not eaten because he’d been so nervous.

Like Yoochun.

And the song, god, the song was amazing. And sad and heart wrenching.

And for him.

Sang from Jaejoong’s heart, straight to his.

“Fuck.” He rubbed his face again.

“Yoochun?”

Yoochun pushed away from the brick wall and tried to swallow passed the insistent lump in his throat.

Kim Jaejoong ducked under the awning and shook out his umbrella before closing it and then staring at Yoochun, first in awe and then with a blank face.

It was Jaejoong’s “school face.” The one he wore to just survive the teasing and taunting of their classmates.

“Um, hi,” Yoochun said, squeezing his hands to hope they weren’t shaking.

“Hi,” Jaejoong said.

Silence again.

Yoochun cleared his throat. “You ... your song. It was ... your voice is beautiful. You sang so well.”

Jaejoong nodded. “Thank you.”

“I wanted ... I’m not sure what I wanted. To tell you it was so pretty. To tell you ...”

Jaejoong took a few steps closer to him.

“I’m still not sure,” Yoochun said. “I’ve been thinking of you all week. I’ve found myself looking for you, looking after you, asking about you.” He took a deep breath and looked up into the dim light brightening their little oasis.

“I’d invite you inside,” Jaejoong said, “but I’m not allowed to bring unnaturalness into the home.”

Yoochun winced. “God, I’m sorry. I just ... I may not point fingers at you and laugh, but I also don’t stop others from doing it, and I should. It’s not right or fair.”

He jerked in surprise when Jaejoong touched his hand and then entwined their fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Yoochun said, looking right in his eyes, and squeezing his hand.

Jaejoong smiled and shrugged a bit. “It’s okay. I am used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Are you used to all the girls that want to and try to confess to you every single week?”

Yoochun made a face. “No. But that’s so different.”

“Maybe.” Jaejoong took a turn to look up. “Take a walk with me? I have an umbrella.”

Yoochun swallowed and nodded. “O-kay.”

With a smile, Jaejoong moved, tugging him by the hand. He opened the umbrella again, and Yoochun moved in close to him to share its protection from the steady downpour. Mostly.

Yoochun wanted to let go of Jaejoong’s hand, but only because he wanted to hold onto it a little longer and that sort of scared him. But Jaejoong did not let him, their fingers entwined and joined.

They walked in silence, and the minutes had Yoochun relaxing.

“Please tell me you’re going to study music in college,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong shook his head. “I promised my father that I would study engineering.”

“Well, you better be in some kind of choir or something while you’re there. Or ... an idol.” Yoochun nudged him with his shoulder.

“No, I like science and physics. Engineering is fine. Most of the time, my singing is just for me.”

“And me,” Yoochun said.

Jaejoong turned his head and smiled. “And you.”

“You picked the saddest song you could. Even Taeyeon was crying.”

Jaejoong snorted. “Bitch.”

“Hey.”

“Don’t start with me and your friends, Yoochun. The things she has said to me--”

“Okay, sorry. You’re right.”

Jaejoong let go of his hand and used both to grip the umbrella. Yoochun had one hand near the top of the handle, and he did not stop himself from covering Jaejoong’s hands. Even with his brain telling him to stop and his heart hammering out of his chest, he put his other arm around Jaejoong’s waist and held him closer under the wide umbrella.

“What ... what ...”

“Just go with it,” Yoochun said.

“No, I’m not ... you can’t play with me, just ...” He struggled to get away, and Yoochun tightened his hold.

“I’m not. I promise I’m not. I just ...”

Jaejoong sighed. “You better not be leading me to some set up where I end up making a fool of myself and all your friends will be there to laugh at me.”

“If I wanted that, I would have told you to dance to that stupid song.”

Jaejoong sighed. “Thanks for ... thanks for telling me to sing.”

“You should thank Key. He ratted you out.”

A snort. “Figures. Diva bitch.”

“And you’re leading,” Yoochun said, noting the awning and light ahead of them. “We just walked around your block.”

Jaejoong huffed. “It’s too stormy for anything else.”

“Another lap?”

Jaejoong smiled and pressed against him. “Sure.”

They talked about their studies more because it was an easy and common topic. Jaejoong planned on spending the rest of his life studying for the college entrance exam.

“It is pretty amazing how petty school hierarchy disappears when we all have to take the exam of our lives.”

Jaejoong nodded. “Does that mean you’re going to study with me?”

Yoochun stared into the rain for a little while and then shook his head. Jaejoong’s face fell a little, so he hurried into his explanation. “Not because of that. Just ... because I want to. Though you might be more distracting than helpful. I am not really sure if you understand just how pretty you are.”

Jaejoong flushed and turned away. Yoochun held his arm tightly and was pulled along with him to the edge of the building and into a small alcove. It was mostly dry, and with the umbrella still above them, the rain dripped harmlessly behind them. Jaejoong readjusted, arms going around Yoochun’s waist, and was he shaking? Or was Jaejoong shaking?

Yoochun did not know.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Yoochun met his eyes. Hope was in his face, shining, and Yoochun bit his lip against a negative retort. Because that wasn’t honest.

“You are pretty. Most of the girls at school hate you because you’re prettier than them. Kim Heechul has taken it as a personal insult that this last year you’ve gotten prettier, though I’d never say to his face that you are prettier.”

Jaejoong blushed and bit his lower lip. “I don’t really care what they think.” He looked up against, hands squeezing Yoochun’s waist. “I care what you think.”

Yoochun swallowed roughly. “I’m ... I’m not sure what I think. I ...” He stopped talking and realized just how close their bodies were, just how close their faces were, and he felt nervous and excited all at once. Nothing like when he was with a girl. “I’ve spent the last week thinking about you,” he repeated. “I’ve spent even longer trying to figure out why I don’t go nuts over girls like Junsu and Junho do. The other day, in the dance room, when I held you. It was only a moment, but it left me shaking. I just ...”

Yoochun tilted his head back. Jaejoong splayed a hand out on his back, under his jacket and pulled and then he was against Yoochun’s body, head tucked under his neck, and Yoochun wrapped his arms around him. Just like in the dance room. Except the handle of the umbrella between them.

Yoochun lifted a hand to the back of Jaejoong’s head and ran his fingers through his hair.

Jaejoong hummed, the sound content and delighted. It made Yoochun smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head on Jaejoong’s.

“I’m starting to think I’ve been looking in the wrong direction,” Yoochun whispered. “I don’t want to play with your emotions though, Jaejoong. That isn’t fair to you at all.”

Jaejoong huffed against his neck and the warm breath on his skin had Yoochun shivering. “Maybe not, but ...” He lifted his head, eyes shut, mouth open a little, and Yoochun licked his lips. God, he was so pretty.

Jaejoong opened his eyes and his hands went up, around Yoochun’s neck, into his damp hair, and then pulled, just a little, and Yoochun followed the tug, and let his eyes flutter shut, his head tilt to the side and his mouth open, just as their lips touched.

Jaejoong sighed and Yoochun shivered, but he did not pull away, even when Jaejoong moved into the next kiss and the next and a slip of a tongue brushed over his lower lip. Yoochun shifted his stance, settled more against him, pressing them tight into the alcove. The umbrella twisted and fell behind them, letting a few eager drops fall into their hiding place.

Yoochun’s head was spinning and he felt almost like he was floating, flinging himself up into the rain clouds with every kiss and every touch of Jaejoong’s tongue. He deepened the kiss and the twisting grew worse at the whimpering moan from Jaejoong.

He had to pull away, he had to think about this, he had to ... he had to ...

“Fuck,” Yoochun gasped and surged forward for more.

Jaejoong chuckled and let him, let the kiss border on frantic for a little while, and then he pulled away with a smile. “I have a curfew,” he said.

The words felt like they came from somewhere else. His head was light, spinning. He shut his eyes and tried to focus, which was difficult with Jaejoong’s hands sliding up his sides.

“Can --” Yoochun squeezed his eyes shut and tried again. “Can I call you?”

“Yes, whenever you want.” Jaejoong took Yoochun’s phone from his coat pocket and entered his phone number and then called himself. The Sailor Moon ringtone echoed around them and Yoochun laughed.

“Shut up,” Jaejoong growled.

“Sorry, just ... not what I was expecting. And I meant tonight. Can I call you tonight?”

“I have to finish my homework before I can talk on the phone with friends, but I’ll call you?”

The last was said in such a hopeful voice that Yoochun smiled and nodded. “I’ll wait up.”

“Good.”

They shared one more kiss and then they left their little alcove and walked back under the awning.

“Take the umbrella,” Jaejoong said.

“No, you might need it tomorrow. I’ll get a cab.”

Jaejoong pouted but nodded. “Okay.” He bit his lip and took a step forward, but there was too big of a chance they’d be spotted under the light. “Bye,” he whispered and then smiled, and he said, “If this ends up being a dream, I’m going to be really mad at you on Monday.”

Yoochun laughed. “If this ends up being a dream, then my subconscious is trying to tell me something and I’ll probably find you at school to talk.”

“You don’t have to,” Jaejoong said. “Your reputation ...”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is. Trust me. It’s a big deal.”

“I won’t make any promises. Not to you or to myself. I’m just ... fuck.” He rubbed his face.

“We’ll see. I’m okay with that.”

Yoochun nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, pretty.”

Jaejoong flushed and smiled at the same time and said, “Goodnight, handsome.”

And Yoochun forced himself to turn around and walk away. He heard a heavy sigh and then the door opened and a few seconds later, Yoochun ran, his mind and body a mess of confusion.

\---

Jaejoong slammed his locker shut and huffed, blowing his hair out of his face. He’d forgotten a clip and did not have one in his bag. Of all the days.

“Your song was great, Jaejoong,” someone said. Again. And then again, as he walked to his first class. He’d been hearing it all morning. Part of him had hoped that by wearing a skirt that people would leave him alone, but a few girls even came up to tell him that he looked pretty and it mostly wasn’t sarcastic.

He hadn’t seen Yoochun yet, but he usually didn’t until almost lunch time.

“I was right,” Key said suddenly next to him. “Tell me I was right about the singing and the dancing.”

Jaejoong sighed. “Fine, you were right.”

“Ha!”

“And you were wrong.”

“About what?”

Jaejoong suddenly saw Yoochun, just going around a corner and their eyes met and Yoochun smiled and said something to Junho and then half walked and half jogged over to them.

“Hi, pretty.”

Jaejoong blushed and said, “Hi.”

“Key,” Yoochun said and nodded at him. The other was glaring at him, suspicious and ready to defend Jaejoong in a second. He crossed his arms.

“Sorry. I meant to get here earlier--”

The last bell suddenly rang.

“--but I slept in because I was ... last night. Anyway, it involved a computer and then you and we’ll just leave it at that.” He winked at Jaejoong, and Key’s mouth dropped open.

Jaejoong laughed. “I told you that website was good.”

“So good. Not as good as you will be though. I’ll see you after school?”

Jaejoong nodded. “In the dance room?”

“I’ll be there.” He started to walk away, and then stopped and leaned in close to Jaejoong’s ear and said, “Can’t wait to get my hands up that skirt.”

Key gasped, and Jaejoong blushed and shoved him. Yoochun laughed and took off at another jog for his class.

“How ... how ... what ... Kim Jaejoong!”

Jaejoong smiled over at Key. “Like I said. You were wrong.”


End file.
